Cami:I’m outside. Don’t pretend
you’re busy. I have burgers.
I stared at my screen for a full ten seconds before glancing at the clock.
2:17 p.m.
Which meant I’d officially worked through lunch.
Again.
It wasn’t unusual; I often felt guilty taking breaks or stopping my day when someone’s livelihood was in my hands—a weight that made days like this harder. Today, though, I suddenly realized how much I needed someone to reassure me it’s okay to feel like this. But underneath, a sharper thought pressed in: I couldn’t let one kiss topple the careful life I’d built.
And although I wasn’t opposed to skipping lunch for myself, I never missed my scheduled lunches with Cami. It was the few times a month that we got to get together away from our responsibilities and just have girl talk.
Cami breezed into my office, one elbow sharp as she nudged a tall, teetering stack of files. At the top, a folder labeled “State v. Hayes Plea” slid off and scattered open on the floor, pages fluttering out for anyone to read.
My stomach dropped as I scrambled to catch them, but Cami didn’t miss a beat, already unpacking two burgers, fries, and iced teas, the scent pushing out the stale air. She set the food down with a bit too much purpose, almost daring me to keep ignoring her.
At that exact moment, my phone buzzed insistently—a client calling, screen flashing, deadline looming—but Cami shot me a look that said,Don’t even think about it.
“You canceled lunch with me twice this week,” she says mildly.
I swallow, searching for the right words. The fluorescent lights glare, the air stings my lungs, and it feels like the room is collapsing around me.
“You look tired,” she observed.
“I am tired.”
“From work?” She asked, although she already knew the answer. So I stayed, silent as she paused mid-unwrapping and looked at me fully.
“Ah,” she said slowly. “Not from work.”
I collapsed into my chair and covered my face with both hands.
She sat opposite me and slid one of the burgers forward. “Start talking.”
I lowered my hands. “It was the pool party. Logan. Everything,” I said carefully, my voice trailing off. The words caught in my throat, not quite the whole truth. Even now, I hesitate to say what almost slipped out that night. I caught Cami watching me, and I wondered if she would push for details or if I could bring myself to answer.
Her brows lifted. “I assumed as much.”
I inhaled deeply, still feeling the phantom warmth of that night.
“He’d had a few drinks,” I started.
“Okay.”
I twist the cap off my tea, but I didn’t drink it; my hands are steadier than I feel.
“He kissed me.”
She went still for a moment before her face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Define kissed.”
I close my eyes for half a second, the memory still sharp in my mind.
The smell of chlorine clung to us, sharp and inescapable. Logan’s knuckles grazed my arm like he couldn’t help but anchor himself there. The whole world hushed as I focused on the faint hitch of his breath, each rise and fall heavy with everything unsaid. In that charged silence, the nearness of his body wasalmost too much, every moment balancing on a single thin line between fear and longing.
“Like he’d been tired of holding back,” I say softly.
